


First Steps

by SmoggyFogbottom



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Apostates (Dragon Age), F/M, Free Marches (Dragon Age), Haven (Dragon Age), hedge mage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 04:47:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoggyFogbottom/pseuds/SmoggyFogbottom
Summary: One day I wondered what it would be like if DA:I let you have a choice of backgrounds ala Origins. Then I decided to write an alternate origin story for my Inquisitor. TL;DR: Inquisitor is an elven hedgemage (aka country bumpkin) who lives with her family in a small town outside of Wycome.





	1. A Surprise Visit

“Ash! Ash, come quick!” A clatter of disturbed pots reached Asharil’s ears, drowning out the stomping footfalls of her younger sister as she clambered up the stairs of the two-story cottage. Before she got to the top of the stair, Asharil threw open the door and glared down.

“Inez, you had better not of ruined my plants.”

Inez rolled her eyes and grabbed her sister’s hand, “C’mon, c’mon, never mind that.”

At first, she had no choice but to be pulled along by her sister’s stronger arm, but she gained leverage against the wall leading into the first floor.

“What is going on?” She pushed through grit teeth.

Realizing she could not pull her sister loose without causing damage, Inez stepped close with an air of secrecy about her expression.

“The Lavellan Keeper is in the barn right now.”

“What!” Their sisterly antagonizing was forgotten in an instant. “What does she want, why didn’t she come to the house?”

Inez shrugged. “Dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Didn’t get near enough to ask. Ghenowen is with her.” Inez’s face blushed, and Asharil didn’t tease her further. Her sister was sweet on the Lavellan clan’s Second, despite not receiving any reciprocation.

“Fine, let’s go see what they want.” She danced around her sister’s smaller dwarven form and stepped out onto the large porch that framed their family cottage. Two pots of elfroot were overturned, their soil spilling out over the wooden planks. “You will help me repot these, by the way.”

Their parents were still away in Wycome, leaving them free to be as noticeable as possible as they rushed to the barn. As they entered the sweet smell of straw hit her right away, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darker interior. But sure enough, there stood Keeper Istimaethoriel and her Second, Ghenowen. The Keeper was just as she remembered, old and wrinkled beyond belief, but with a sharp wry look in her eye. Skin like crumpled vellum and long white hair she wore like a cape. Ghenowhen stood a head taller with chestnut brown skin and black hair kept short and cropped. The Keeper had formed an arrangement with her parents years ago. Occasional tutoring to help their daughter control her connection to the Fade in exchange for various supplies.

“Keeper Lavellan!” Asharil stumbled between a bow and a curtsey before righting herself. “What brings you this way? Would you like a bite to eat?” She gestured back towards the cottage.

“No child, but thank you.” The elder shifted her weight onto her staff and sighed. “The world is changing quickly and we who are on the outside can no longer pretend it will not affect us.”

She felt her sister’s derision even though her expression remained passive. Inez’s dwarven heritage cut her off from any connection to the Fade and although she said she did not understand nor care for her half-sister's sensitivities to it, she remained a little jealous.

“Yes, we should always be mindful-” Asharil was at a loss for the elder mage’s sudden appearance and melodramatic greeting. “Has someone been bothering the clan?”

The Keeper smiled at her concern, causing wrinkles to crease and deepen across her face. “Not in the way you think. I am sure here in Wick you have heard of what has happened in Kirkwall and the unrest in Thedas?”

The sisters shared a look. _Everyone _heard how the Kirkwall chantry was destroyed by a mage zealot and the ensuing rebellion. It sent their own household into frenzied levels of hysteria. Their mother was certain templars would descend on their village and slaughter any suspected apostates. She wanted to drag her out into the wild woods and plead for the Lavellan clan to offer her sanctuary. Their father would have none of it. His angry words still rattled about her mind. _She is my daughter as well! I've loved and raised her as my own. I will not have you drag her into the woods and split up this family._

_“_Yes, of course. It’s terrible business.”

“Word has reached my ear of a meeting in the southern Kingdoms. A conclave to broker peace in these troubling times.”

Inez snorted. “Good luck.” She muttered.

Asharil did not react as strongly but shared her sister’s sentiment. Still, if this was accurate information, she marveled at the inherent ability of the Keeper to discover all manner of secret and hidden knowledge.

“The outcome of this meeting, whether good or bad will affect our clan, and we only wish to be prepared.” The Keeper looked pointedly at Inez. “It will affect you and your family even if you choose not to acknowledge this.”

“Thank you for your warning, Keeper. We will be careful.”

Both Dalish elves looked worried in equal measure. “We fear the situation is dire. An ill omen is arriving at your doorstep.” Ghenowen’s warm lilting voice filled the barn. “A trustworthy person must go to the town of Haven and bring back news of the outcome.”

Inez’s features darkened and she stepped up to Asharil’s side. “What are you asking?”

“You want me to be a spy?” Asharil gasped. It was a ludicrous thought, more ludicrous to say aloud. “You want _me _to go down to the southern kingdoms and spy on the mages and the templars?”

“You’ve done this before, no? And on our behalf.”

“Yes, but that was with local council sessions! Not with – whoever – and – wherever!” She

threw her hands up in exasperation.

“It is between the Divine and the feuding factions. They are meeting in the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the village of Haven.” Ghenowen spoke again, then clutched their Keeper’s arm. “Look, as you said would happen!”

The other two girls whipped around to see a contingent of heavily armed soldiers march up to the front of the cottage. One stepped up onto the porch and banged a gauntleted fist against the door.

“What do they want?” Inez whispered. She knew but did not want to believe it. “They aren’t dressed as Templars.”

“The war drives all to violent and desperate acts. Regardless of what side they are on, they are not on your side. It would do well for them not to find us.”

The two Dalish elves faded further into the darkness of the barn’s interior as a few of the soldiers broke off from the group. They began to make their way to the barn.

“They just can’t find _you _three.” Inez whispered. “C’mere.”

She ushered the three elves to the back corner of the barn where a small gap existed between the floor and wall. It opened into a small space under the floorboards that had been a popular hiding spot for the girls as children. Inez had literally outgrown it, but the slight bodies of the elves should still fit.

“Hide under here.”

Asharil clutched her sister’s arms, her face stricken with worry. “Inez -”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’m a dwarf.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean yes, I’ll still be worried, but no, it’s -” They both looked down at her hips wedged tight against the floor and the wall.

A moment of panic passed between them before their faces crumpled in manic giggles. “Ma always said those pastries would kill me.” She whispered.

“Shh, shh. Damn it.” Inez muttered, and shoved her older half-sister as far into the gap as she could before pushing a mound of loose straw over the bits that remained visible. She picked up their father's pitchfork and walked towards a straw bale before “noticing” the approaching strangers.

“Hail, friends.” She called out. “May I help you?”

“Stone met, sister.”

Asharil heard a male’s voice call out a dwarven greeting.

“Ok, sure. What’s going on here? You folk looking for someone?”

A pause. Asharil was on pins and needles.

“Some in town speak of a healer who lives here. We wish to speak with them.”

“Oh yeah?”

She closed her eyes and cursed whoever in town gossiped. You offer magical healing one too many times and this is the thanks you get.

“My Ma makes soothing mixtures and poultices, but she’s in Wycome at the moment. Do you need healing right away?” 

A hand reached up and grasped her arm and she felt a rush of energy flow through her as the world became dull and shadowed. She turned and looked down at her body, but it had disappeared. It took a moment before realizing she was invisible.

In the commotion she lost track of the conversation.

“Well, if you need a place to rest, feel free to use our barn. It is warm and protected from the elements. In fact, let’s go speak with your comrades. We’ll let them know my offer.” Inez emphasized certain words, expecting her sister to catch her meaning. The soldier and Inez left for the cottage.

After she was sure the barn was free of menacing strangers, she pushed up from where she was wedged.

“Asharil!” Her name was whispered fiercely from underneath the floorboards. She watched through the barn door as some of their neighbours gathered on the edge of their land to watch the spectacle. Inez would not be alone, but the thought of leaving her hurt.

“Your sister has given us means to escape. Do not waste this.”

With tears welling in her eyes, she nodded silently and turned away from the door. “There is a crawlspace that leads to the bottom floor. You can exit out the back. I’ll meet you at the forest’s edge.”

“Hurry child, the spell I gave you will not last long.”

She nodded and left the Dalish, holding her breath and praying to all the gods that the spell would last until she was out of sight of all those gathered. Casting one heartfelt look to her younger sister, she cleared the barn without issue and scurried into the vast forest that bordered the back of their land.


	2. A Sudden Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my attempt to write a level up in a narrative fashion.

Separated from her home and her family, it did not take long for the Keeper to convince Asharil to leave the Free Marches for Ferelden. Even on the run, they received word of bandits and mages from the northwest infiltrating the town of Wick. Why they did not move on to the larger city-state of Wycome was anyone’s guess. And why they were so curiously looking for local magic users was even more concerning. It made sense to leave, and hopefully to find out if those in power had a solution to fix the madness plaguing the nations.

The night she finally agreed to the Keeper’s request, Asharil’s sleep was fitful. Her mind was a product of many cultures and they collapsed in on each other as she desperately tried to sleep sound. Andruil and Andraste met and fell in love. The Maker and Elgar’nan spoke only with vicious arguments until they fell apart and coalesced into one being. Mythal shed her warm motherly gaze and rose up fierce as a bear protecting her cub. The world ignored their squabbling gods and returned to the earth, the stone. The Stone sang and the world loved her and sang the song with her. As the song rang out, a storm cloud darkened the land, bolts of bright, crackling lightning shot down over and over. She was a hedge-mage healer, how was she meant to survive this assault? But as desperate as she was to run to safety, she remained frozen in spot. The lightning blasts sprayed debris over the area; dirt, twigs, even shards of rock. The air crackled and a moments relief only heralded a bolt of lightning which pierced Asharil’s chest.

In a frenzied panic she woke, clutching her chest and twisted up in her sleeping roll. Breathing was difficult and her heart raced. It beat in her chest as if she was scaling a mountain. Clawing at her clothes, she inspected her chest and found it bore no injury. Pressure was building inside her body, something needed to escape, and with it her heart beat faster. She stumbled out of her bedroll and past the clearing where her small group made camp. Her body felt as if it were preparing to vomit, but she sensed no queasiness in her stomach. Stumbling in the dark, she tripped and fell to her knees on the nearby riverbed. Her connection to the Fade was always tenuous. Accessing it was akin to prying open a door sealed shut by many chains. But the dream – the storm in her dream – it flung open the door and her mind began manipulating the Fade in a way she never had before. The power within expanded and intensified and she felt as if it would rip her apart. Remembering her dream and the flurry of bolts assaulting the ground, her mind saw an avenue of release. Magic coursed down her arms and a flurry of sparks burst out from her fingers and along the surface of the river. In an instant the discomfort vanished. Quiet settled over the area once more and as the riverbank adjusted after the sudden and unexpected storm; Asharil knew she could summon the power again.

* * *

It had been a week since Asharil summoned a storm with her mind. Much to the delight of the Dalish hunters - Ellathan and Aareal - the blast of lightning across the river claimed the lives of fifteen Bluegills of various sizes and colours. Breakfast, lunch, and supper had been thusly sorted. In a weeks' time Keeper Istimaethoriel had given her the basics of how to cast this effectively and how to bend the elemental chaos around those she did not wish to harm. It fascinated Asharil more than what was proper and she gave no small thought as to why of all schools of magic, the storm came to her first.

As promised, they had escorted her through the Free Marches with much haste. Ghenowen returned to the Lavellan clan to protect and guide it during the Keeper’s absence. The Keeper and two hunters remained to see her safely off, and (Asharil thought) to ensure her will did not waver. As they crested the final hill before a lonely little town, the halla stopped in their tracks.

“We go no further.” Ellathan stated in his brusque manner. The Keeper nodded to the hunter and slid off her ride. Asharil followed suit and hoped to never see another halla as long as she lived. There was not a single one of those beasts who cared to have her ride on their back.

The elderly woman took her hand and placed in it a substantial coin pouch.

“This should be enough to barter passage across The Waking Sea. It was all we could – procure.” A twinkle filled Deshanna Istimaethoriel’s eyes as she spoke and Asharil recalled a day when their paths crossed a caravan of well-to-do’s making their way to Ostwick. Ellathan and Aareal seemed oddly cheerful and chatty with the human passengers; making small-talk, letting the children play with the halla. She thought it odd, but didn’t give it much more consideration.

“Should I be curious on where this was withdrawn?”

“From no one who will miss it.” Ellathan muttered.

“You do us a great service, da’len.” She pulled Asharil into a quick embrace. “But I have already been away from my clan for too long. This is where we must leave you.”

Fear quickened the beating of her heart and she felt tears threaten to spill. “You’ve done so much for me, you’ve helped me and my family when you didn’t have to. It is only fair I do this for you.”

In truth, she started the journey terrified. The fear remained, but along with her strengthening connection to the Fade, came a sense of duty. If those fearsome soldiers came to her family’s farm, in the small community of Wick, it was no longer a safe place. Making this trip would keep her family safe and it would provide much-needed information for the Lavellan clan. After two weeks of travel it seemed to her the only option.

“Dareth shiral, Asharil.”

This time Asharil embraced the Keeper, fearful of turning away. “Hopefully I’ll be back in a couple months' time with good news.”

The farewells ended much too soon and Asharil waited until her companions were no longer in sight before turning towards the village before her. It was little community on the outskirts of Kirkwall. Reminded her a little of Wick resting under the looming shadow of Wycome. For the first time since her rapid exit from her only home, she was truly alone and far from familiarity. Nearly two weeks had occurred since her escape. She wanted so badly to return home, she wanted to know if Inez was safe, if their parents were angry, if they understood why in the end, she chose to help. The Keeper was a persuasive and enigmatic person. The longer Asharil travelled under her protection, the less she could feel anything else but complete agreement in her cause. After all, all she had to do was witness what happens, to listen to gossip. A life lived in a small town full of gossips and busybodies prepared her for this very moment. Tucking the coin pouch into a hidden pocket sown into the inside of her jacket, she stepped out onto the main road and onwards to Kirkwall.


	3. The Threat Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jump cut ! now in Haven

Asharil woke after a blessed dreamless sleep. Her last period of consciousness was riddled with terrible pain and absolute chaos. Strong-armed into battle; forced to battle demons. Demons! An involuntary shudder passed through her body. These past events felt like a nightmare she was finally waking from. A numbness replaced the searing pain in her hand. There was a pressure building in her head, causing her to feel separate from her body. As she slept, a chill had settled into her bones and her exposed skin was frigid. Staring up from where she lay, she rested on top a simple bed in a small rustic cabin. Not too dissimilar to buildings found in her small hometown, but it did not take long for her to decide it was Ferelden in make and décor. Looking down at herself, she noted her body had been cleaned and tended to with magical healing. Her tattered and blood-stained outfit had been replaced with a coarse light-brown suit. She wondered where it came from and who might have fixed her up. Pushing herself up as carefully as she could manage; a gasp and clatter of wood and material immediately drew her attention. A young elven woman, barefaced like her, stood startled by Asharil’s sudden movement. A wooden crate lay overturned at her feet.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”

She looked at the girl, a little befuddled by the reaction.

“Don’t worry about it. I only-” Her attempt to mollify her was interrupted as the other elf dropped to her knees in a bizarre display of veneration. She clasped her hands together and looked at Asharil with a mix of fear and awe.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.”

A surge of dizziness made the room spin and Asharil clutched the sides of her head. The girl’s reaction made her feel ill at ease. What had happened? What did she do? Prison, she remembered. Humans. Angry humans – more humans then she had been around in her whole life. She looked back up and studied the humble cabin. She survived?

“You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

“So you’re saying – they're happy with me?”

During the slow march back to the destroyed Temple of Sacred Ashes, she resigned herself to death – either at the hands of demons or by the angry, grieving humans. People being pleased with her had become unfathomable.

“I’m only saying what I heard. I don’t mean anything by it.” The girl was backing up towards the door as Asharil struggled to make sense of this new information.

“I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’!”

Asharil recalled the stern-faced woman who dragged her through the mountains. She had no desire to see her ‘at once’. At this point the girl was halfway out the door.

“And where is she?”

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once,’ she said!” With that, she scurried away, leaving the door ajar. Despite the coolness of the cabin’s interior, the slight opening issued in a blast of snowy mountain air. Testing her strength and fortitude, she pushed herself into a standing position. When she did not waver or collapse, she made her way to the door. Peeking out, her eyes widened at the sight of nearly fifty people gathered outside – most of them soldiers. There were humans, elves, and dwarves, all excitedly chatting amongst themselves – occasionally looking over to where she stood. The crowd equaled her hometown’s entire population. A little spark of curiosity began chasing away the unease.

Closing the door, she looked around the cabin for something warmer to wear. A chest pushed against the wall sat unlocked. She tidied up the girl’s overturned crate and moved to investigate the chest. A treated leather jerkin lay on top covering a soft hide coat underneath. She pulled the hide coat out to inspect and her nose wrinkled at the musty smell. Looking at the shoulders and the length of the arms she decided it was made for a human, but the fit would do for now.

The layer of fur on the inside of the hide began warming her cold limbs and she flipped up the oversized hood to warm her icy ears. Spotting fur-lined gloves, she leaned over and slid those over her freezing digits.

She would not wait for those in charge to come to her, she would go to them. A power-balance shift felt like it was on the horizon and Asharil remembered the Keeper, she remembered her little village. Witnessing the events of the conclave was a moot point now. Now she might just have leverage to protect those she cared about. Regardless of whether she was still considered a prisoner, she fixed the sky. It must count for something.

As she adjusted the oversized coat, the door to the cabin slammed open. Asharil jumped back towards the bed and her fingers crackled with energy. A concerning reaction, she noted. Darkening the door frame was a face she did not expect to see for some time. Her little sister, her dearest friend – Inez.

“You’re awake!” Inez screeched as she ran towards her sister.

She did not have time to react before she was bowled over by the charging dwarf.

For a moment they clung together, babbling incoherently as happy tears streamed from their eyes. Asharil wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her newly procured outerwear and looked down at her sister. “When did – how did you get here?”

“I got here just as you left to seal the rift in the sky, which is an absolute batty thing for me to even say by the way.”

She nodded in firm agreement. Her mind hadn’t wrapped around the concept yet. Her eyes widened as the shock and delight of seeing her sister reminded her of other complications they left behind. “Are Ma and Da safe? Are they angry I left – hold on, they let you leave?”

Questions poured out of her like a leaking spigot.

“Ok - ok, lots of questions. I’ll tell you what happened really quick because I think the grumps in the chantry want to speak with you.” Disappointment filled Inez’s face at her own self-censure. A story told without embellishments was not a story Inez like to tell. “Ma and Da are safe. They were worried at first, but glad you were with the Keeper. The strangers and soldiers left a week after you left and they took Odette, Dehari, and Sahel with them.”

“What! Why?” The three of them ranged in age and background, Odette was a human from the south, Dehari and Sahel were elf-blooded and hailed from a family that lived in Wick for generations. They each possessed a small morsel of control over the Fade, but not enough to be useful in battle.

Inez shrugged. “We avoided them as much as possible, but they left and the Elders decided Wycome needed to know what happened. I took Old Borgram’s nag and left to tell them.”

Inez was just a handful of years below her twentieth year, and only five years younger than Asharil, but she was a skilled survivalist and tracker. For this, she was often viewed as the stronger of the two and bestowed with greater expectations; of which Asharil did not disagree.

“So I get there and no one gives two shits about what I have to say. Eventually I give up and decide to track down the Lavellans, see if I can get more information or at least tell you that Wick is safe. Wen tells me -”

“Sorry, Wen?”

Inez’s face darkened in embarrassment. “Uh, yes – um, Ghenowen told me you had actually agreed to go to Haven, and I became possessed by a manic surge of sisterly protection. I had to join you. I wrote a letter for Ma and Da and left.” She shrugged. “I finally got here a few days ago.”

The din from all those gathered outside grew louder and reality came crashing back down across her shoulders. She wrapped her arms tightly around Inez, holding her so close her arms began to ache.

“You _have_ to tell me _everything.” _ She let go and stood up once more. “But first, I have a feeling I should go speak with some angry humans.”

Inez stood up and took her hand. “Are you kidding? Everyone loves you.”

“I think it’s a little complicated for the ones in charge. And those ones are all angry and human.”

Her sister sighed and nodded. “Yep, these Ferelden’s are a cantankerous lot.”

They walked hand in hand to the door. “I am suddenly deeply regretting visiting the chantry as little as we did.” Inez muttered as they looked out toward the sturdy, snow-covered chantry.

Asharil’s lack of knowledge of the chant or of the traditions that surrounded Andraste led many here to believe she followed the elven gods, despite her bare-face. She went along with it, unsure of whether her families passed down agnosticism would go over any better.

“We can blame our parents for not taking us to the chantry. Or make something up. I think they have more on their plates then how devout we were as children.” She squeezed her younger sister’s hand and they left the small cabin together. Facing the unknown suddenly felt a little less scary and a little more manageable.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my computer for a million years. Might as well dump it here.


End file.
